To Love And Be Loved
by The Masked Penguin
Summary: Jana likes Gordie. Gordie likes Jana. Both happen to be shy little wankers. Will they work through it, or resort to moving to Indonesia and Madagascar?
1. gordie, jana, and rubbers

I don't know why this is here... I just felt like writing a Gordie story, I guess. I do love Gordie. I think I'm officially discontinuing "Uncle Chrissy". I'm out of ideas and it wasn't that great a story anyway.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Clean your room."  
  
"I'm young. I shouldn't have to."  
  
"January Eleanora Fisher! You march right upstairs and you clean your room!"  
  
Jana smiled slightly and cradled the phone in her other hand. "Yes, dad. Right away, dad."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I mean, yes, male parental unit who is NOT a Nazi totalitarian leader and whom I love very much. Right away, male parental unit who is NOT a Nazi totalitarian leader and whom I love very much."  
  
On the other end of the line, her dad smiled too. "Good job! I knew you could do it, you little genius, you!"  
  
Jana grinned. "Okay, dad. I love you."  
  
"I love you too," he replied. "Bye. Oh! Wait!"  
  
She grinned. Her dad could never remember everything he wanted to say at the first opportunity, so she'd learned to keep the phone up to her ear until he hung up.  
  
"Janie! I forgot to tell you! Gordie called this morning. He's coming over. He said he was bringing a ladder so I expect him up your window soon. I should be home shortly after he gets there. Then I'll make finger sandwiches."  
  
"Finger sandwiches? What are you, a SOCCER MOM?"  
  
"Hell no. I'll put some salami on a plate and shove it under your door."  
  
"Thanks, dad."  
  
"No problem. I love you." This time she heard the click of her father hanging up, so she replaced the phone on the receiver and turned up the stairs, this time making it up to her room. She shut the door, quietly so as not to wake the sleeping cat on her bed, and set about the task of organizing her books.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Aaah!" She shrieked, dropped the book she was holding, and whipped around to see the owner of the voice, Gordie Lachance, staring at her through the window, propped up on a ladder.  
  
"Good to see you, too," he acknowledged, tipping his baseball cap as he tumbled in her window. "It's nice to know you're loved."  
  
"Did I say you weren't loved? I screamed because I heard someone greeting me from my second story window!"  
  
"Oh, HUSH, girl. Do you ever stop talking about things that don't matter?"  
  
"Nope. You know me."  
  
"You are my source for the mundane," he agreed, hopping onto her bed and petting her kitten. "You know I only come over here for little Zeppy here." The kitten purred under his hand.  
  
Jana gave him a fond but stern look and set her book away. "Thank you," she replied dryly.  
  
"No problem. You know I'm always right here. Now hey, do you have Callahan's assignment?"  
  
"Aha! I knew it!"  
  
"Why, knew what?" he asked, trying pitifully to feign innocence.  
  
"Ulterior motives!" she cried triumphantly. "Lachance, I KNOW you!"  
  
"Right, right. Now do you have the assignment or not?"  
  
"Gordie. Come on. We're talking about Jana and an English assignment. Now reach far into your memory and tell me one time I haven't copied the assignment from YOU."  
  
He pretended to think a while, then shrugged. "Nope. Can't do it. That's why I came over. To help you."  
  
Her heart melted. "Aww!"  
  
He waved his completed assignment in the air for a few seconds before pulling out her desk chair. "Have you even started?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Wow, are you ignorant."  
  
"And proud." He smiled when she said this; she loved it when she made him smile.  
  
"Here, sit," he said, taking her elbow and leading her over to her desk. "Now sit. We are going to learn English!"  
  
"My dad got you over here, didn't he?"  
  
"Oh, he might have. Now sit!" He cleared his throat. "English is everywhere, Jana. You're surrounded by adverbs, prepositional phrases, and- "  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Callahan!" she interrupted, smiling. "Christ."  
  
He grinned back. "Foundations are very important."  
  
"I think I've got the basics. Now please, if you'll pardon the expression, tell me something I don't know."  
  
"President Taft was the first president to ever be buried in a piano case."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You didn't know that, did you?"  
  
"Well, no, but that wasn't exactly the type of thing I needed to hear."  
  
"Why, are you going to get all insecure about your weight now? Jana, I think you're perfect the way you are."  
  
"Well, yes, I know you do, but that's because I'm not going to get buried in a piano case!"  
  
"Yes, yes, probably true," he agreed. "Though it's always a possibility," he added, winking.  
  
"Gordie! I'm hurt."  
  
"Yeah, you look it. Let's work on English. Try not to get us sidetracked anymore, okay?"  
  
"Sure, I- hey!" Talking to Gordie was certainly... an experience, she thought to herself, smiling. It always left her feeling a little slower than she'd felt when she started. "You know, normally, I consider myself to be a very witty person," she began. "But you. you change everything, you know that?"  
  
"I leave a lot of people in my mental dust," he said, very seriously.  
  
She stared.  
  
"I'm kidding!"  
  
"I thought so."  
  
"Well, at least, I might be."  
  
"Oh, Gordie."  
  
"I know. I'm incorrigible." His eyes sparkled. "What are you going to do with me?"  
  
"Uh, learn English?"  
  
"Oh yeah! You and your sidetracking. I'd completely forgotten."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Hey Jana. Tell me the difference between an adverb and an adjective."  
  
"Uh, one's got 'verb' in it, and the other one's long and scary-looking."  
  
"Good!... kind of. Way to get a good start!... sort of. You wanna help me out with this Venn Diagram?"  
  
"Nope. I think you can handle it on your own, you're a big boy."  
  
He put a hand over his heart. "Of course I can do it, Jana. But to really instill heart and feeling into it, I'm going to need your help, or it will be a simply lifeless diagram. And then the other Venn Diagrams will tease it on the playground. Do you really want to be the one that scars the little baby Venn Diagram?"  
  
"It scarred me! My first memory of school is in first grade when Mrs. Jackson told me to make a Venn diagram, and I couldn't do it!"  
  
"Well, two wrongs don't make a right. Now just do the damn thing."  
  
Suddenly Mr. Fisher poked his head into his daughter's door. "Gordie!" he cried enthusiastically. "It's so good to see you!" He then mock-glared at his daughter. "I could have had the finger sandwiches ready minutes ago."  
  
Gordie raised an eyebrow. "Finger sandwiches?"  
  
"Dad thinks he's a cook," Jana explained.  
  
Mr. Fisher's jaw dropped. "Hey! Do you want food or not??"  
  
"Please?" Jana asked, smiling.  
  
"Please WHAT?"  
  
Jana rolled her eyes and sighed. "Please, male parental unit who is not a Nazi totalitarian leader and whom I love very much?"  
  
"Better! I'll be back up in a second with some cheese and crackers, how's that sound?"  
  
"Oh, wonderful, Daddy. Thanks. Welcome home, by the way."  
  
"No problem. Study hard," he replied, smiling at the two as he closed the door. "And Jana," they heard him yell through the closed door, "if you call that clean, there will be some SERIOUSLY totalitarian-esque training seminars going on tomorrow."  
  
"I love your dad," Gordie commented, grinning and shaking his head.  
  
"I do too," she agreed, smiling now herself.  
  
Jana lived alone with her father. She had three other brothers, but they were all older. The youngest, Adam, was 19, and going to college over at the state university, and the oldest, Mark, was 26 and a veterinarian who lived with his wife, Tracy, about fifteen minutes from her house. They were expecting their first child soon. In the middle was Jack, Jana's favorite, who was single and who lived only ten minutes away.  
  
"Why do you live alone?" Gordie asked suddenly.  
  
She looked up, surprised. "I don't," she answered.  
  
"You know what I mean. What happened to your mother? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."  
  
"You know what happened to my mother. She died."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But how?"  
  
"She fell off a skiing chairlift."  
  
"I'm serious!"  
  
"Uh, me too."  
  
Gordie reddened. "Oh my God."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"I'm sorry I brought it up. I was just curious."  
  
"No, it's okay. I don't remember her. Besides, if you can't be an idiot in front of me, who will you reveal your true self to?"  
  
"Chris. Teddy. Vern. All those friends I have that aren't you." He smiled. "But thank you for not hating me because I'm a callous, insensitive bottom- feeder."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"You know, I really like you."  
  
"Oh, I know."  
  
"I know you know. I'm just reminding you, in case you forgot."  
  
"I won't forget."  
  
"Okay. Good."  
  
"Gordie. I'm shocked. What brings all this emotion up?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Life, I guess." For a little while he looked vulnerable, but then he put on his jolly, happy-go-lucky face again and grinned at her. "You know what you need?"  
  
"No, what?"  
  
"A boyfriend."  
  
"A boyfriend! Oh, why didn't I think of that! Why don't you get me one for Christmas, Gordie?" She glared at him.  
  
"Wow! Touchy, aren't we?"  
  
"Not touchy, per se... I'm simply acutely aware of the situation."  
  
"Touchy!"  
  
"Am not!"  
  
"Touchy!"  
  
"Am not!"  
  
"What's a preposition?"  
  
"Am not!"  
  
"Uh, I know you aren't. But what is?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"A preposition. What is it?"  
  
"Uh, a word?"  
  
"Wow. That was deep," he muttered sarcastically. "Anything you'd like to add to that?"  
  
"Uh, no?"  
  
He sighed. "A word relating...?"  
  
"A word? A word relating a word?"  
  
"Correct!"  
  
Jana's jaw dropped. "Are you serious??"  
  
"Actually, yes. You are right on an English question for the first time in... oh, let me see... oh yeah... ever!"  
  
Jana's father popped his head in again. "Really?" he asked, coming in and setting down a plate of cheese and crackers in front of his daughter and her friend. "Jana got a question right?"  
  
"Yup!"  
  
Mr. Fisher smiled. "That's great! Wow, times like this really make me wish my daughter was consistently intelligent..."  
  
Gordie cackled.  
  
"All I can do," he continued, looking at Gordie, "is have her hang out with you and hope that maybe some of your smartness will rub off on her... though if I ever catch you two doing any PHYSICAL rubbing of any kind, I will cut off your rubbers... rubbers... I think those are some sort of rain utensil in England... perhaps they are erasers... for all intents and purposes, though, the aforementioned rubbers are referring to any sexual organs that-"  
  
"DAD. STOP."  
  
Gordie, who had begun laughing at the word "rubbers", was now having trouble breathing as he looked at Jana's face, contorted in a strange combination of embarrassment and rage. "Mr. Fisher, you're my hero."  
  
The older man smiled at Gordie. "I know. Why aren't you kids outside? Go! Go! Get fresh air!" And with that, he pushed the two whippersnappers out of the house.  
  
End of Chapter 1  
  
Mr. Fisher IS my dad... God. My father has had the exact "rubber" conversation with Alex, the Gordie in my life. How sad is that?  
  
Review; let me know if I suck at writing romances or if you want more : )  
  
Heart! 


	2. what the eff?

New chapter!  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Gordie looked around. "Did you know that your porch could be considered sparse?"  
  
"Um, yes." Jana nodded. "We're not big on the whole porch furniture deal."  
  
"Right. I say we head to the treehouse."  
  
"Gordie, it's four o'clock on a Wednesday. No one will be there, you fool."  
  
"Not true! It is my personal belief that Teddy actually LIVES up there, and just comes out to fool us into believing that he DOESN'T."  
  
"O... kay. To the treehouse!"  
  
"That's the spirit!"  
  
~~  
  
"Hey," Chris said, inside the treehouse. "We need food."  
  
Teddy smirked. "YOU need food. I, being the smart, mature human being that I am, already GOT food before I came here."  
  
"Hey. Vern. Go get food."  
  
"WHY?!" Vern shrieked. "I ALWAYS hafta get the food!"  
  
Chris and Teddy rolled their eyes. "Gordie and Jana'll probably be here soon, if I know them," Chris conceded. "And again, if I know them, they'll probably have food."  
  
"They always have crappy food!" Vern whined. "The last time I relied on them to feed me, I ended up eating wheat germ for a week!"  
  
"When the hell did those two health nuts ever feed you for a week?" Teddy demanded.  
  
"Well, my parents won't let me stay home alone, and-"  
  
"And I'm done hearing about this," Chris cut him off. "I don't want to hear about Gordie and/or Jana babysitting you."  
  
"I was just saying about the wheat germ-"  
  
"No."  
  
"And the Brussels sprouts-"  
  
"NO."  
  
"And they fry them up and then do this tofu thing that looks like cheese and-"  
  
"NO! For one thing, every DAY for me is a struggle to forget that my best friend is a health nut! For another thing, I don't need to HEAR about the food that I spend my life trying to AVOID! Vern! STOP TALKING!"  
  
Vern blushed at Chris's outburst. "Okay."  
  
Just then, Gordie's head popped up the trapdoor. "Hey guys," it said, smiling. "Guess what we brought?"  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Good God."  
  
Gordie pulled himself through the trapdoor. He took off the pack that had been around his neck and opened it. "Look! Granola popsicles!"  
  
Vern's jaw dropped. "How did you get it to freeze?" he asked in wonder, picking one up by the stick and examining it.  
  
"Mr. Fisher thinks we should call them "gransicles"," Gordie added, ignoring Vern.  
  
"And," Jana continued, "because my father is not exactly the picture of health, as you know, he sent along some chips and pork rinds. You know. For you guys."  
  
"Your dad sent pork rinds?" Vern repeated in shock.  
  
"I keep trying to tell him that it's his health we're talking about," Gordie replied, shaking his head, "but he doesn't seem to listen. I tried to serve him a pineapple-and-beans smoothie yesterday, and he looked at me like I'd grown an extra head!" He looked down, dejectedly. "No one understands me."  
  
Chris wrinkled his nose. "That's because to understand you would be to accept you, and that would entail eating the equivalent of fish paste for the rest of our lives."  
  
"Actually," Jana spoke up, "fish paste is quite high in calories, and-"  
  
"STOP."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Teddy scoffed. "Are you two here for a reason, or are you just here to save our lard-eating, pot-smoking, non-flossing, doughy, fatty souls?"  
  
"Both," Gordie replied. "Actually, I'm here because I need to borrow a hundred dollars."  
  
All four jaws dropped.  
  
"I'm SERIOUS!" Gordie continued.  
  
"Um, why?" Teddy spoke up.  
  
"You're giving me the look again! The have-you-grown-an-extra-head look!"  
  
"Why do you need money, Gordie?" Chris asked. "Have you fallen behind in your prostitute billing system?"  
  
"No! I just... need... money."  
  
"WHY?"  
  
"I... I want to enter a poetry contest."  
  
Chris snorted. "Look, if you can't even tell us WHY you need the money..."  
  
"No! That IS why I need money!"  
  
"You're gonna enter a poetry contest?" Teddy repeated dubiously.  
  
"If I... get... a hundred. dollars... maybe, I'm not... well..."  
  
"FAG!"  
  
"Hey," Jana reprimanded, then burst out laughing.  
  
Gordie stared in horror. "Look! I'm trying to express my SOUL to the world! You can't put a price on that!"  
  
"Sorry, man," Vern laughed from the floor, where he'd rolled after falling off his chair, "but unless I'm sadly mistaken, none of us have that kind of money."  
  
"Maybe you wouldn't roll so much if you ate gransicles instead of pork rinds, fatty," Gordie muttered.  
  
"He's right, man," Chris said, laughing. "We're all as broke as badgers."  
  
Gordie sighed. "How am I gonna express my soul?"  
  
"Get a job," Teddy suggested, still breathing heavily from the peals of laughter he was trying to suppress.  
  
"I guess I'll HAVE to." Gordie shook his head. "I can't believe I'm getting a job. I'm a virgin to the corporate world. I-"  
  
"Wait. You're a WHAT?" Teddy demanded, on the verge of another crippling peal of laughter.  
  
"It doesn't ALWAYS mean that, you perv!"  
  
"SURE! You VIRGIN!"  
  
Gordie rolled his eyes and threw a gransicle at Teddy. "Eat gran," he muttered. "I'm off to find a job."  
  
~~  
  
"What do I do?" Gordie asked Jana, kicking rocks down Shadyside Boulevard two hours later. "There ARE no jobs in Castle Rock."  
  
"Looks like you're gonna be a virgin forever," she laughed. She opened her mailbox, pulled out a letter, and slammed it shut.  
  
Gordie sighed, hit her shoulder, and turned up her front walkway. "You shut up."  
  
Jana smiled again. "Look, do you want to come in and stay for dinner?"  
  
"Sure," he shrugged.  
  
"Cool. Come on," she replied, and shoved the door open.  
  
"Did we have fun with the fresh air?" Mr. Fisher asked, when the two entered the house.  
  
"Loads," Gordie responded brightly. "Now let me take your money."  
  
Mr. Fisher was a co-owner of the only law firm in Castle Rock. He'd been a lawyer for twenty years, and thus had somewhat of a prominent position in Castle Rock. He cleared his throat. "Gordie, you are many things, but you are not a mugger."  
  
Gordie sighed and flopped down on the couch. "I was sort of serious."  
  
"Why do you need my money?"  
  
"Gonnawritepoemhundredcontestmoney," Gordie mumbled into the couch pillow.  
  
"Young man, stop making love to my couch pillow and kindly repeat what you just said."  
  
"I don't find your couch pillow attractive."  
  
"Well then stop toying with its feelings. The only way you are allowed to have relations with my couch pillow is if the two of you are properly united."  
  
"Mr. Fisher, your couch pillow has no lips. Normally, I'm not an appearances type of guy, but that poses an issue in our non-existent relationship."  
  
Mr. Fisher laughed. "Okay, shut up about my pillow. Why do you need money?"  
  
Gordie sat up and stared at the lawyer. "I'm entering a poetry contest," he replied flatly, bracing himself for another round of jeers, this time from both the Fishers. But to his great surprise, Mr. Fisher jumped up in what seemed to be a joyous gesture.  
  
"Poetry! Oh, Gordie, you're going to be a POET! 'Two roads, diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry that I could not travel both, and be one traveler, long I stood'... this is wonderful! How much do you need?"  
  
Gordie stared. "A hundred dollars?"  
  
"Wow," Mr. Fisher repeated. "That's... a lot... holy SHIT... what are you ENTERING, boy? The poet laureate finals?"  
  
"No, but the prize money is five hundred dollars..."  
  
"Whoa. That's a lot too."  
  
"Dad, you're an idiot," Jana murmured from the other side of the living room. He smiled winningly at his daughter.  
  
"Gordie, I'm going to make you a deal," he said brightly. "We're getting you in this thing!"  
  
Gordie raised an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"  
  
"I'll pay for your entry, and then for the next couple months, you can work for me around the office and pay it off. And then if you win, I'll give you back the hundred and consider it a gift. Deal?"  
  
Gordie's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? Deal! Totally!"  
  
Mr. Fisher smiled. "Great," he said, shaking the younger boy's hand. "If you like, you can start working for me this weekend."  
  
"Oh, Mr. Fisher, that would be great!" he cried. "You are SO MUCH COOLER than my family!"  
  
"Oh, I know. I leave a lot of people in my coolness dust."  
  
Jana coughed.  
  
"Actually, that's just the way I interpret the constant staring," he continued thoughtfully. Gordie cackled.  
  
~~  
  
Later that night, Gordie, who was sitting in Jana's desk chair, scratching out fiction, leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. "Le sigh."  
  
Jana looked up. "What the eff?"  
  
"What the eff?" Gordie repeated, amused. "Uh..."  
  
"You heard me. What the eff. You just sighed IN FRENCH."  
  
"You just swore in an ABBREVIATION."  
  
"Wow, Gordie. Nothing gets past you!"  
  
"I can't believe you just said what the eff."  
  
"I'm done having this conversation."  
  
"Don't you mean you're EFFING done having this EFFING conver-EFFING- sation?"  
  
"Shut the eff- the fuck up."  
  
"OOH!" Gordie cried. "Big man on effing campus now."  
  
"Will you STOP it?"  
  
"Stop what? Stop effing mocking you?"  
  
"Arg! You should go screw something! Now!"  
  
"Your cat's busy," Gordie replied.  
  
"EEW! You sick monkey! You leave my cat out of this! Why are you such a horrible person?"  
  
"That's just the effing way I am," Gordie replied, smirking, as he reclined in Jana's desk chair. "Jana, did you know my handwriting slants to the left?"  
  
"Yes," Jana replied. "That denotes an idiot."  
  
"An effing idiot."  
  
"SHUT UP! Anyway, what are you sighing in French about over there?"  
  
"This poem hates me," Gordie replied, suddenly serious as he rested his head on his hand. "English hates me."  
  
"English loves you. You and English should get a room."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"An effing room," she added and laughed. "I am going to go get some food," she informed him. "Do you want anything?"  
  
"Do you have any more pork rinds?"  
  
"Ooh! You ARE secretly a horrible eater!"  
  
"Only when I'm depressed," he replied. "Go. Get food. I have to go drown myself in sustenance and throw my troubles away."  
  
"My God," she muttered, and shut her door. It should be illegal for one person to be so damn alluring while asking for pork rinds.  
  
End of Chapter 2  
  
I hope you're enjoying this... no real romance yet, I don't want to jump into anything and make it seem unnatural. Review! 


	3. first day

Chapter 3  
  
Jana woke up early on Saturday to someone's incessant pounding on her bedroom door. "Get up! Get up! Before I break down the damned door!"  
  
She rolled over, looked at her clock, saw 6:18, and promptly replied, "Whoever you are, you better fuck off before I render you incapable of producing spawn..."  
  
Mr. Fisher laughed on the other side of the door. "Hey, spawn! Either you get up RIGHT NOW, or I'm going to bring Gordie in here when he comes into work in an hour and then I'll show him EXACTLY how you look in the morning!"  
  
"He knows how I look in the morning..."  
  
"GET UP."  
  
Why do I have to get up?? HE'S the one working for you!"  
  
"You have to come with us and show him the ropes!"  
  
"I hate your office."  
  
"No you don't! You love my office!"  
  
"No I don't."  
  
"I'll wear my roller skates," her father pleaded. "And I'll even drive with them."  
  
She poked her head out the door. "Why would that be an incentive to come with you?"  
  
He shrugged. "Early morning excitement?"  
  
~~  
  
"I can't believe I'm here," Jana grumbled, staring ahead at the windshield and watching the small streets of Castle Rock fly by as they headed to his building. "I can't believe it's seven thirty on a Saturday and I'm in your car because you don't think Gordie's capable of filing papers."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I can't believe I'm on my way to watch my best friend do NOTHING for six hours and then-"  
  
"Will you SHUT UP? You so like him! I am TRYING to do you a favor!"  
  
Jana's jaw dropped. "I WHAT and you're WHAT?"  
  
"Don't you think I have EYES? You want to have his babies!"  
  
"No I don't!"  
  
"Do! Which, of course, is bad, because you can't have babies until you're thirty..."  
  
"I don't want his babies!"  
  
"Right. And I didn't want your mother's babies."  
  
"You didn't have us, you moron! She did!"  
  
"Well, she wanted MY babies."  
  
"This is SO WRONG! We should not talk about this! In fact, no one should ever talk about you reproducing! Ever!"  
  
"I am the father of four kids, young lady. I am the patriarch of a CLAN. And I'll have you know that that makes me a sex MACHINE."  
  
"AHH!" Jana covered her ears. "I'm not listening to you! I'm not listening to you!"  
  
"Ha ha ha... you are so young and impressionable," Mr. Fisher laughed as he turned the car off. "We're here. Time for you to go ogle your future mate."  
  
"I don't OGLE," Jana replied heatedly, not moving. "And even if I did, it wouldn't be Gordie."  
  
Mr. Fisher turned and stared at his daughter. "You know," he said, slowly, "I don't see what's WRONG with Gordie... I don't see what's so wrong with him that you can't even confess to OGLING him... we know you do..."  
  
She sighed. "I DON'T ogle him. I just... he's been my best friend for too long to like him."  
  
"Your mother and I were best friends for ten years before we started going out."  
  
"You know," she remarked thoughtfully, "you've mentioned Mom more times this morning than you normally do in a month."  
  
"It's her birthday," he replied simply.  
  
Jana smiled. "Is it really? I wish I knew the date..."  
  
"You're an idiot. It's May eighteenth. And I think that on your mother's birthday, you should reach out and tell Gordie you want to skronk him."  
  
"I DON'T! What the hell is skronking?"  
  
"Like screwing. Only it sounds a lot cooler."  
  
"I do not want to SKRONK Gordie!"  
  
"Well then you're stupid."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You're stupid! Gordie's a great kid! If I were a young teenage girl, I'd think he was hot!"  
  
Jana stared. "That's it. You aren't allowed to talk anymore."  
  
"I promise not to call any more of your friends hot."  
  
"All right," Jana muttered. "Let's go."  
  
By the time the two got halfway up the walkway into the office, Gordie rode his bike into the parking lot. "Jana! Mr. Fisher!" he called. The two spun around.  
  
"Hey," Jana muttered, blushing. Her father poked her. "Don't touch me."  
  
"Why are you here?" Gordie asked, leaning his bike up against the side of the building and putting an arm around Jana's shoulders. "I thought you were going to stay home."  
  
"I was."  
  
"But you're here."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Someone's articulate," Gordie muttered.  
  
"Don't worry, she's just on her period," Mr. Fisher said cheerfully, getting the mail from the box on the side of the building before he stepped in and met the blast of air-conditioning. Gordie's jaw dropped. Jana looked ready to kill.  
  
"I can't believe you just said that," she murmured through clenched teeth.  
  
"Mr. Fisher." Gordie pulled on his suit coat to get him to look down. "Mr. Fisher."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Does Jana really have a period?"  
  
Mr. Fisher gave a blank stare. "Um..."  
  
"I'm serious!"  
  
"Well... yes..."  
  
"Who'd she do it with?"  
  
"WHAT? JANA!" Jana looked over her shoulder, scowled, and kept walking. Mr. Fisher looked at his daughter and then back at Gordie. "There was doing?"  
  
"Doesn't there have to be?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"To get... you know..."  
  
Mr. Fisher's eyes widened. "Gordie, you little naïve son of a..."  
  
"WHAT are you two talking about back there?" Jana demanded, not looking back.  
  
"Uh... we're having boy talk," her father responded. "Gordie and I are going to the bathroom now."  
  
"Together? That's nasty... I thought you weren't going to call any of my friends hot anymore!"  
  
"I didn't!"  
  
"That includes propositioning them for sexual favors!"  
  
"I'm not!" Not bothering to wait for a response, he shoved Gordie into a bathroom.  
  
~~  
  
"What in the world was that all about?" Jana asked ten minutes later. She seemed to have cheered up slightly after gluing herself to the coffee machine. Mr. Fisher looked around briefly to make sure that Gordie was still down the hall, organizing folders.  
  
"Did you know that your little boyfriend's parents told him that you have to be pregnant to have a period?"  
  
"WHAT the hell?"  
  
"Yeah." Mr. Fisher frowned. "I know Dorothy Lachance. She was on the bridge club when your mother and I played. I don't know her husband very well, though."  
  
"Who, Mark?"  
  
"Right. Is he... you know..."  
  
"Gordie doesn't talk about him very much, and most of the time, he comes over to our house instead of inviting me over. But from what I've seen of him, he's an ass, yeah."  
  
"When did Denny die?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Denny. When did he die?"  
  
Jana put down a coffee cup and stared. "Why?"  
  
"No particular reason." He shrugged. "Do you know?"  
  
"Springtime of 1959."  
  
"That was four or five years ago," Mr. Fisher mused, more to himself than to his daughter. "And they still haven't gotten over it."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You don't think it's weird that Gordie doesn't know anything about life?"  
  
"He does, he just..."  
  
"Or that he never has any money?"  
  
"They're sparing, they..."  
  
"Or that he's never allowed to submit stuff to the newspaper, no matter how much we nag him to?"  
  
"It's not because of his father, he-"  
  
"Hey, Mr. Fisher," said Gordie himself, from the doorway. Father and daughter shifted uncomfortably, wondering how long he'd been there.  
  
"Hey, Gord," he responded, clearing his throat. "What's up?"  
  
"I just wanted to know where to put these," Gordie replied, holding up a sheaf of folders uncertainly.  
  
"Oh, just... just put them on the desk." Mr. Fisher waved a hand dismissively. "It really doesn't matter... you'll find that our secretaries make it hard to mess up things too badly." He gave a smile, and Gordie left.  
  
"I would adopt that kid if you weren't going to marry him anyway," Mr. Fisher announced, staring at the empty doorway.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Wouldn't it suck having a family like his?"  
  
"God, I don't know. I have to make do with you."  
  
"You know you love it."  
  
End of Chapter 3  
  
The word "skronk" (and any variation, i.e. "skronking") belongs to the amazingly glorious Kate (Aleka), who has been kind enough to let me borrow that magnificent word.  
  
Thanks to you readers! And, of course, apologies to any of you with weak constitutions offended by my use of the term "period" in a story that is, after all, based on a movie about four GUYS.  
  
Heart! 


	4. trees

Chapter 4  
  
"I love Sundays," Jana observed, sitting on a park bench at ten thirty in the morning next to Gordie, who didn't look completely awake.  
  
"Me too," he mumbled back. "I'm glad I don't have to work."  
  
"You're such a pussy... you've worked for A DAY filing papers and putting paper clips in said files, and you're already completely wiped out."  
  
"It's not quite as easy as it looks. IN fact, it's deceptively difficult."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Look at all these paper cuts!" Gordie protested, holding a mangled, bandaged finger in front of her.  
  
"Oh, my poor Gordie... scarred in corporate battle..."  
  
"There we go. That's the sort of support I need."  
  
She grinned and closed her eyes.  
  
"You're not going to go to sleep on me now, are you?" Gordie demanded. "I go to all this trouble to get out of the house every Sunday so I can spend it with you, in all of your neurotic glory, and now you're going to sleep on a bench?"  
  
"No... I'm checking my eyelids for holes."  
  
"I don't think you're allowed to call me a pussy if that's the worst you can come up with," Gordie smirked. "Ow!" Jana opened her eyes to see that Gordie's face was entirely covered by a huge, green leaf. "This THING just attacked me!"  
  
"I think it's called a leaf. Sometimes you see them if you stay outside long enough and are able to tear yourself away from the Monkees long enough."  
  
"I love it," Gordie remarked decisively, turning around to look at the tree behind the bench. "I am going to write a poem about it."  
  
"About this tree?"  
  
"This very tree."  
  
"This very tree?"  
  
"Indeed. What kind of tree is it?"  
  
"This..." Jana looked up. "I believe this is a yew."  
  
"No it's not."  
  
"What is it then?"  
  
"It's a me."  
  
Jana burst out laughing. "Gordie, you are something else."  
  
"I know," he replied, laughing a little himself. Then he slapped the tree trunk. "You know what?"  
  
"No. What?"  
  
"There should be an us."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"An us. Like, in your backyard, you know how you have a lot of trees?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well you could have a row," Gordie explained, pointing to the tree. "A row with a yew, then a me, then an us."  
  
Jana grinned. "The tree family."  
  
"Yes. The little Gordie and Jana trees."  
  
End of Chapter 4  
  
This was so short; I'm sorry. 


	5. oh gordie

Chapter 5  
  
"So you're almost out of school," Mr. Fisher said mildly, putting down a book ("Parenting, Vol. 15: What To Do If You Think Your Child May Be Neurotic") and peering at Gordie, who was on the other side of the office, feeding his fish.  
  
Gordie grinned. "Two more weeks."  
  
"What are you going to do?" he asked, taking his glasses off and setting them down on the desk. "You've only got to work for me for another month. Any plans for the rest of the summer?"  
  
"Nope." Gordie shrugged. "Are you guys going camping again this year?"  
  
"Sure are. July 14 to the 21."  
  
"Cool."  
  
"Want to come?" Mr. Fisher asked spontaneously.  
  
Gordie's jaw dropped. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, would you have fun?"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
"So you want to come?" He couldn't help but smile at the younger boy's joyful look.  
  
"Hell yes!" Gordie's eyes dropped. "I don't know what my dad will say, though... you know... alone with a girl and her dad..."  
  
"Gordie. Snap out of it. I'll talk to your father for you."  
  
Gordie winced. "He hates you."  
  
"He's jealous of my blatant sex appeal."  
  
Gordie winced. "Jack, he hates you."  
  
Mr. Fisher sighed. "Oh well," he muttered finally. "I'll talk to him tonight."  
  
~~  
  
"Hey, dad," Jana called from her bedroom when she heard the door slam.  
  
"It's me," Gordie called back. Jana popped her head out of the doorway.  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way... what the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"Your dad invited me to go camping with you!"  
  
Her jaw dropped. "No way!"  
  
"Way!"  
  
"YES!" She grinned and hugged him.  
  
"Wow. I didn't know you were so anxious to spend so much time alone with me in a tent." Gordie waggled his eyebrows, but succeeded only in making Jana roll her eyes.  
  
"How do you pick up ANY women?"  
  
"I'm much smoother around them than I am around you. Besides, you've known me for so long that you've grown immune to my charms."  
  
"Right. Hey, what did your mom and dad say about you camping with us?"  
  
"We... haven't... told them... yet..."  
  
"What, are we just going to sneak you into our truck and drive over to Finland?"  
  
Gordie stared. "You can't drive to Finland, you moron."  
  
"You can't?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Dad did, last time he was on business!"  
  
"He went to MEXICO, Jana."  
  
"Isn't Finland in Mexico?" she asked, confused, as she reached on top of her refrigerator for a banana.  
  
"Um, no. I can't deal with this. I don't have the energy to deal with this. I am sick of your idiocy. Let's go to the Blue Pointe; I'm hungry."  
  
"Oh, I can't," Jana replied casually.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm grounded."  
  
"You're WHAT?" Gordie screeched.  
  
"I'm grounded."  
  
"Why?? If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! PROSTITUTION IS WRONG!"  
  
Jana gave him a dirty look. "I'm grounded for failing my English exam."  
  
"You FAILED it?" repeated Gordie, who was looking dazed. "But... but I tutored you for days... WEEKS..." He sighed. "You idiot. Did you at least pass the class?"  
  
"Barely."  
  
"So you did pass?" Gordie asked, looking relieved. "I can't take English without you."  
  
"Of course I passed. After giving Mr. Callahan a lap dance."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"I'm KIDDING. Maybe."  
  
"Whatever... I no longer care. Anyway... so you can't go out of the house?"  
  
"Nope." Jana folded her arms. "You can't tell me you aced all of your finals."  
  
"Everything but math."  
  
"HA!" She pumped a triumphant fist in the air. "That's the one exam I got an A on! Well, that and Science."  
  
"You realize you're living in a man's world?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
~~  
  
"I've invited your dad over for dinner, Gordie," Mr. Fisher announced as he hung up his sweater, an hour and fifteen rounds of "Go Fish" later. "Wow, it is WARM out there for May..."  
  
"He's coming HERE?" Gordie asked, dropping his cards in astonishment.  
  
"Yup. He'll be here in an hour."  
  
Gordie scrambled up. "Have you gone temporarily INSANE?" he demanded, waving a hand in front of Mr. Fisher's face. "What the hell were you thinking?"  
  
"I was thinking that since I'm going to ask if you can come camping, he'll have to know the family a little better... I think that'll help our chances."  
  
"We don't have chances! We've never had chances! This is my dad! Mark Lachance!"  
  
"He always seems to walk like he has a corn-cob up his ass," Mr. Fisher observed. "Perhaps that's why he's so ill-tempered."  
  
Gordie half-smiled. "You know I mean this in the best possible way, Jack, but... he will hate you."  
  
"You don't KNOW that. Well, perhaps you do. But it wounds my self esteem when you say things like that, so I'm going to have to ask you not to-"  
  
"Look, if you can't even handle me saying that my dad will hate you, I don't think you're ready to actually MEET him."  
  
"He hates me," Jana volunteered helpfully. Her father looked at her.  
  
"You're sitting in the room with the only person in the world who doesn't hate you," her father explained gently. Then he looked up. "Gordie, is it a burden?"  
  
"I hate you more than you hate me," Jana muttered, burying her face in the couch.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure. Anyway, Gordie, what are your father's favorite foods? Keep in mind that the liver and spleens of young children are slightly hard to find, that mold takes more than an hour to grow, and that bat colons are out of season."  
  
Gordie shrugged. "Potatoes?"  
  
"Wow. Thanks. I'll keep that in mind as I make the dinner... we have pork. Does he like pork?"  
  
"I guess so..."  
  
"How can you not know? He either likes pork or he doesn't! Which one is it, boy? Pork? No pork?"  
  
"I don't-"  
  
"I don't want to hear it! Shut the pork up!"  
  
~~  
  
Another hour found Gordie bedecked in a "Just Another Sexy Bald Guy" apron and checking on corn bread as Mr. Fisher poked the pork with a pen.  
  
"Someone's knocking," Jana announced from her spot in the living room. "And what the hell is this book on neurotic children?"  
  
"Later," her father cried. "Oh God! He's here! Gordie! Get that apron off!"  
  
Gordie yanked the apron over his head in time to hear, "John Fisher? Mark Lachance."  
  
"You can call me Jack, if you like..." Mr. Fisher responded uneasily.  
  
"We'll stick with John, thank you," Mark Lachance responded in a clipped, curt tone. "Where is Gordon?"  
  
"Oh, he's... in the... in the kitchen." Mr. Fisher was already sounding defeated and showing signs of depreciation.  
  
"Thank you. Gordon." Mr. Lachance strolled into the kitchen. "How have you been."  
  
"Oh. Um... fine," Gordie muttered, kicking the apron under the table.  
  
"Where is January?"  
  
"She's... in the living room..."  
  
"Not entertaining her guest?" his father questioned, lifting an eyebrow.  
  
Gordie looked over at Mr. Fisher helplessly, who shrugged in an equally helpless manner. "Well, we were making dinner, and-"  
  
Mark Lachance held up a silencing hand. "Enough, I've heard enough. Get her out here and we'll eat."  
  
Mr. Fisher shot a look at Gordie and bolted into the living room.  
  
"Dad," Gordie murmured softly, "please, try and be nice."  
  
"What? I am nice," he responded curtly.  
  
"Why isn't mom here?"  
  
"Your mother has more important things to do than come to diner with your friends, Gordon."  
  
Gordie bit back a "So you don't?" and nodded.  
  
"This place is falling apart," Mr. Lachance observed, pounding the plaster of the wall he was standing next to. "Those shelves are crooked. That tile is chipped; the paint in the corners is peeling. Between this place and the Chambers', you're turning into genuine trailer trash, Gordon."  
  
"We're here," Mr. Fisher said from the doorway, flustered, as he and Jana filed in, trying to make controlled, reserved movements.  
  
"Hello," greeted Mr. Lachance as everyone pulled out chairs and sat down. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Lachance broke it again. "Can I ask why I'm here?"  
  
"I wanted to... well, my daughter and I go on a camping trip every year, you see," Mr. Fisher began, putting down his silverware. "And this year... we were wondering if perhaps your son could come."  
  
Mr. Lachance's eyes widened. "Mr. Fisher, I-"  
  
"Jack, or John, whichever you-"  
  
"MR. FISHER," Mr. Lachance interrupted. "Mr. Fisher, I don't think it's right that you and your daughter take unaccompanied trips at all. It's not traditional, I don't like it. The last thing I want is you taking my son along so you can plant more ideas in his head."  
  
"Excuse me?" Mr. Fisher's voice acquired a sort of stiffness.  
  
"You're the one paying for my son's poetry contest entry, are you not?"  
  
"Well, yes, but it's just a-"  
  
"Mr. Fisher." Mark Lachance stood up. "I am only going to say this once, but I am going to make it very clear. I don't like you. I don't think you're a good person. And I don't like your daughter. I will CERTAINLY not have you taking my son off to the wilderness to tramp over God knows what, and, for future reference, you absolutely may NOT have my son "work for you" over at that office of yours without my consent!"  
  
"Sir, I just-"  
  
"Mr. Fisher, if you knew what it was like to be worried about your child, to be-"  
  
Mr. Fisher drew himself up angrily. "Are you insinuating that I don't know how to take care of my children?"  
  
"How can you be sure she's even yours?" Mr. Lachance asked sweetly. "Look at your jet black hair. Your wife, as I recall, had black hair as well... January has red hair. I can't help but wonder what color your milkman's hair was? I seem to remember your wife having... non-traditional values..."  
  
"You leave my wife out of this," Mr. Fisher muttered through gritted teeth.  
  
"Dad," Gordie whispered, and put a hand on his father's arm. "Sit down."  
  
"Gordon, we are leaving," Mr. Lachance said loudly and clearly.  
  
"I don't want to," Gordie replied, and pulled away, but his father had a firm grip on his sleeve.  
  
"What did I just say?"  
  
"Well, dad, I want to-"  
  
"Don't make him leave," Mr. Fisher ordered with disgust in his voice. "As a person you disgust me, but as a parent you horrify me, and it mortifies me that someone like yourself is allowed to rear someone as brilliant as Gordie and subject him to all of your monstrosities."  
  
"Mr. Fisher, I am warning you that-"  
  
"To hell with your warnings. Gordie, would you like to sleep on our couch tonight?"  
  
"You sleep with them and you'll be sleeping with them for the rest of your life," his father growled angrily.  
  
Gordie looked in between the two men and spied Jana, looking down at the table with two tears pouring down her cheeks. "Dad, I'm going to sleep here tonight," he said quietly. "I hope in the morning that you reconsider this, but for now I can't go home with you."  
  
Mr. Lachance stared at his son for a second before hurling his fork to the ground, fixing Mr. Fisher with a venomous stare. "You..." he started to say, and then turned around and stormed out of the house.  
  
Mr. Fisher came around and put a hand on Gordie's shoulder. "Oh, Gordie."  
  
~~  
  
"Gordie," Jana whispered later that night in the dark. The two were lying in sleeping bags on the living room floor at eleven at night.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Don't you ever get scared?" She turned over on her side. "Your dad is so mean, and he does so much bad stuff to you... don't you ever get scared that you won't be able to turn it all around?"  
  
Gordie shrugged. "Sometimes. But a lot of the time I have Chris... or I have you... or someone to keep me from feeling too bad. It isn't the thought of my dad not liking me that scares me. He's a jerk anyway, and I'm okay with him not liking me... it doesn't matter. What scares me is the thought of NO ONE liking me... but when Chris is here, or you're here, or your dad's here, I know that I don't really have to worry about that."  
  
"You don't ever have to worry about that."  
  
"I know... I can't believe your dad stood up for me like that."  
  
"He loves you," Jana replied softly. "Very much." She paused, debating on whether to add what she wanted to add. "I do too," she amended quietly.  
  
"I know," Gordie whispered, and kissed her forehead. "Good night. Try not to dream about English."  
  
"I won't."  
  
End of Chapter 5 


	6. to celibacy

Chapter 6  
  
"Good morning," Mr. Fisher greeted cheerily on Saturday morning. He flipped a pancake and then turned around again to stare at his daughter and her best friend. "You two look like you just had sex."  
  
Gordie shrugged. "Not with each other, at least," he replied, pulling out a chair, and Jana laughed. "Mr. Fisher, do you want help with breakfast?"  
  
"Nope." He shook his head. "You can help me eat it, though," he added, plopping a stack of pancakes down on Gordie's plate. "I didn't know whether you liked blueberry or regular, so I made both, and then I didn't know what kind of syrup you liked... we have the real stuff but I figured you'd like the fat-free crap so I went out and bought you some, and then I realized that I'd bought blueberry syrup, and I still wasn't sure if you liked blueberry or not, so I ran out and bought maple, only to come home and realize that I'd bought ANOTHER carton of regular maple, so I went out and bought a thing of fat-free maple, and then decided "eh, what the hell" and then went out and bought fat-free maple, and then got home and realized that if you DID like blueberry, there wasn't any fat-free blueberry, so I ran out and bought some fat-free blueberry syrup, along with some Canadian bacon, and then realized you weren't Canadian, but might possibly like Canadian bacon as it's slightly less fattening than regular bacon, but decided to buy some regular bacon just in case, and then realized upon arriving home that you might like sausage, so I bought two packages, and then got home and realized it was unbalanced, so I went out and bought another package each of Canadian and regular bacon, and then got home and realized we had no EGGS, so I went out and-"  
  
"Dad, you are burning in sentence hell for that..."  
  
"Mr. Fisher," Gordie interrupted. "How many trips to the store did you MAKE?"  
  
Mr. Fisher blushed. "Nineteen," he replied. "Which explains the eight bottles of syrup on the table... here. Have some bacon. And then some Canadian bacon. And sausage. And scrambled eggs. And omelettes. And-"  
  
"Did you make nineteen trips for me?" Gordie asked incredulously.  
  
"Well," Mr. Fisher replied, shoving a sausage into his mouth, "you ARE the guest."  
  
Gordie's jaw dropped.  
  
"He's not this nice to everyone," Jana said conversationally, filling a glass with milk. "In fact, he seems to be quite taken with you... is there something I don't know?"  
  
Mr. Fisher waved a hand. "Go take a shower," he ordered. "You disgust me." Gordie snickered and Jana scampered off.  
  
"I am going to drink her milk," Mr. Fisher announced. "Gordie, would you like anything to drink?"  
  
"Water would be fine, please," he replied politely. Mr. Fisher nodded and filled a glass.  
  
"So how's life?"  
  
Gordie shrugged and took a sip of water. "It's all right," he replied after he'd swallowed. Mr. Fisher nodded.  
  
"Glad to hear it. Decided what poem you're going to enter in the contest yet?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty proud of it, actually."  
  
"What's it about?" Mr. Fisher inquired, turning the stove off and coming to sit down. "Have a seat."  
  
"Love," Gordie murmured, blushing. "Well, lack of it, really..."  
  
"Oh, don't tell me you can't get a girl." Mr. Fisher grinned broadly. "It's not like they're an endangered species or anything."  
  
"Well, the only girl who's ever paid me any attention is Jana."  
  
"So go for her." Mr. Fisher shrugged.  
  
"Uh, Jack, you're her DAD..."  
  
"No I'm not. I'm your confidant. I'll be her dad when you two go out and I have to run background checks on you for twenty years and threaten you in public so as to discourage the practice of dating and neutralize you in the way of reproductive organs so you can't take advantage of my daughter. For now, just talk to me."  
  
Gordie waved his hands in the air, seeming to have forgotten about the glass of water. "I don't know how I feel, Jack," he exclaimed suddenly, spilling a bit of water on his shirt and not noticing at all. "I mean, on the one hand, she's this really cool girl and then on the other hand she doesn't like me and even if she does I don't know if I like her and even if I like her and she likes me what if I screw it up? What then? God! This is hard! Love is not supposed to be hard! This is so hard that I can't even talk anymore, and I'm the most articulate person I know..." He put his head in his hands. "I hate love."  
  
"What you have," Mr. Fisher replied wisely, "is not love. You have CONFUSION. Which, upon further reflection, is roughly eighty percent of love. You may be on your way. But I have to say that I find your declaration of "love is not supposed to be hard" interesting."  
  
"Well," Gordie said, setting down his glass. "Well." He seemed to have calmed down a bit since his previous outburst. "I mean, I know I love her, but right now it's more like a sister love, and it's kind of gross to want your sister, but I do, sort of, and-"  
  
"Hey! You want my daughter?"  
  
"Confidant?"  
  
"Eew! You want your sister?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
Mr. Fisher sighed. "Does she KNOW?"  
  
Gordie rolled his eyes. "Not unless I scream her name in my sleep."  
  
Mr. Fisher laughed. "Oh, Gordie," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You've got a lifetime to fall in love, you know. You've only got a few years to be a kid. Besides, look at me. I haven't been laid in five years and I AM the cool club."  
  
Gordie snickered and held up his glass. "To celibacy?"  
  
Mr. Fisher grinned and clinked his glass against the younger boy's. "To celibacy."  
  
~~  
  
Jana never went outside with wet hair. It bothered her, made her feel messy, unkempt, ugly.  
  
Today, racing across the field and heading toward the treehouse, her wet hair flopped and got her yellow, ratty tank top wetter than it already was. She reached back, never stopping or even slowing down, and made an attempt to tie it back with a rubber band she found in her jeans pocket. Her stomach sank as she ran her fingers over her hair and realized she'd made it even worse. Oh well... it'd have to wait.  
  
"Anyone up here?" she cried, slithering up the ladder. "My God, Teddy, get your fat ass off that milk crate!" She heard scraping as Teddy moved the crate he was likely sitting on away from the hatch and opened it to peer down at her.  
  
"Aren't we a right little ray of sunshine," he cracked sardonically, grinning at her and grabbing her hand to help her up. "What's up? And where's your skronk buddy?"  
  
"Chris," she cried, panting. The blonde looked up.  
  
"You are really out of shape," he observed mildly, staring at her heaving chest and flushed face. "Are you gonna be okay? Do you need the Heimlich maneuver?"  
  
"Dude, if you're going to try and feel up girls," Teddy interrupted, "get it right... the Heimlich is for when you're choking..."  
  
Chris shrugged. "She appears to be choking on her throat," he replied. He turned to Jana. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," she gasped, sitting down as he moved over and made a spot. "I need to talk to you."  
  
"About...?"  
  
"Would you have sex with me?"  
  
Vern made a gurgling noise as he suddenly forgot how to swallow, resulting in the precipitation of Chex Mix. Teddy fell off his chair, and for the first time in his life, tried unsuccessfully to laugh. Chris just gaped.  
  
"Not you PERSONALLY. But as a man in general."  
  
"Um... I'm not qualified to answer that... and your granola and tofu is definitely a turn-off..."  
  
She groaned. "Chris, I'm serious," she muttered, resting her head on his shoulder. "Let's change the guidelines. You're no longer a man in general. You're Gordie. Same question."  
  
Chris's face visibly relaxed. "Ohhhh. So THAT'S what this is about."  
  
Jana sighed. "Last night he slept RIGHT NEXT TO ME. He was close enough for me to hear his breathing. I've never heard sexier breathing. It was 'Grrr I want you take me now' breathing, and I wanted to roll over on him and just SUFFOCATE him."  
  
Chris snorted. "Sexy breathing doesn't exist, and even if it did, Gordie wouldn't have it. Gordie has 'I'm a part of the chess club AND the English club, and I may be sleeping on my pocket protector, so take it out and I won't ruin it and we'll call it second base' breathing."  
  
Teddy cackled. "Amen, brother."  
  
"I hate you both." She looked up at Chris. "Do I even have a CHANCE?"  
  
"I've no idea," Chris stated simply.  
  
Jana looked around the treehouse. "Teddy? Vern?" Both boys shrugged. "Well aren't YOU THREE a bunch of help," she snapped, standing abruptly and yanking down on the hem of her tank top.  
  
"Look, we don't keep some sort of bizzaro "Skronk Log" for you two," Teddy replied. "Why don't you just ASK him if he likes you?"  
  
"Um, because that would involve ritualistic suicide, which can be a hindrance in romance to those of us belonging to the NON-necrophiliac population, and I don't think Gordie belongs to that particular subculture?"  
  
"I dunno, man," Chris murmured. "It's always the quiet ones."  
  
Jana laughed, which caught her breath, which made her wish she was about twenty pounds lighter and still taking gym. She quickly turned the gasp for air into a cough in a desperate effort to save face among the ridiculously- physically-fit Chris and Teddy, comforting herself only with the fact that Vern was still there. "I guess so," she agreed. "Well, I'm supposed to be taking a shower right now, and so I guess I should run home, huh?"  
  
"Probably," Teddy concurred. "Unless you have money to play poker, in which case you are free to stay here. In fact, money isn't even necessary; I'll be nice and allow you to stay here and inspire a friendly game of strip poker."  
  
Jana gagged. "I really have to go," she protested disdainfully. "Any last minute advice?"  
  
"Come up to him all friendly-like and rub his shoulders," Chris suggested.  
  
"Touch the back of his ear," Teddy said. Something about the decisive tone of his voice made Jana question him.  
  
"Why? How do you know this? Am I wasting my time on a Teddy-liker?"  
  
"Once, I did it by accident while we were wrestling and he got a stiffy off it."  
  
Jana wrinkled her nose and her jaw dropped. "EEW! I hate you! No more talking for you! I'm going home to eat granola and watch over my organic produce while doing yoga and cleansing that from my mind!" She shoved him away from the trapdoor and jumped through it.  
  
Chris headed to the window and watched her dart across the field. "She's an odd one," he stated, looking around at his other two friends.  
  
"Like Gordie," Teddy agreed, and cackled.  
  
"They are great for each other," Vern observed. "Such cute little skronk buddies."  
  
Teddy rolled his eyes. "Adorable."  
  
End of Chapter 6  
  
You! Yes you! Review! (If only for the fact that that rhymed and I'm obviously a poet and don't know it) 


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